


One Thing You've Already Got

by iwillpaintasongforlou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Jealous Louis, M/M, Top Harry, and then of course there's stupid sweet cuddles at the end, because I'm Rachel Canonlarry-Iwillpaintasongforlou and I cannot be stopped, body worship if you squint, even a smidge of groveling, it's p good trust me, ps harry calls louis loubear after orgasm bye, they're both a little possessive actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:32:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/iwillpaintasongforlou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Louis acts like a jealous, petulant child sometimes, it's probably just because he loves Harry Styles more than the way the sun consistently rises in the morning. For his part, Harry just wants it to be him and Lou forever.</p>
<p>(Louis gets jealous over dumb shit and Harry fucks him senseless because there's no one he loves more than this idiot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Thing You've Already Got

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "I Would" because that's like the best song on that album don't touch me
> 
>  
> 
> _"Up in my head I'm your boyfriend, but that's one thing you've already got..."_

“I’m just saying, Harry, you’re a bloody liar if you say you’re not the biggest flirt on the planet.”

If Louis’ tired tone makes it sound like he’s had this argument a million times, it’s probably only because he and Harry have  had this argument a million and one times. Every time, in fact, that Harry’s around another man. He’s such a fucking _minx,_ is the thing, and that’s half the reason why Louis fell in love with him- even at sixteen and a virgin, he’d been such a little bundle of sexual energy that Louis couldn’t keep his hands off him.

It’s just that now, at twenty years old and Louis’ boyfriend of four years, he’s still a siren. He _still_ exudes this easy sexuality that makes everyone with even a slight inclination towards men want to flock towards him. They can’t help it, of course; he’s got dimples and curls and gorgeous eyes and a body that Louis frequently likes to kiss every square inch of. Louis doesn’t blame them at all.

He just wishes Harry wasn’t quite so receptive of that attention, sometimes.

“It’s just my personality,” Harry defends himself, playing his part in the familiar battle of wills. “I’m not flirting, I’m just being nice.”

“He was hanging off you for _hours,_ Harry, and you did nothing.”

“He was drunk out of his mind!”

“Yeah, drunk enough that he was kissing your neck, and you just fucking giggled!” Louis feels his face heat up again just thinking about it.

Harry looks at him in utter disbelief. “Louis. It was _Liam.”_

“Yeah,” Louis scowls, “Liam. Liam who you make blowjob innuendos with on stage and lick any part of him that gets too close and cuddle with at every given opportunity.”

“Liam, our _completely straight_ bandmate who we’ve both been _completely platonic_ best friends with for four years now,” Harry cries out, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “God, that would be like accusing me of flirting with Gemma. We’re playing around, it’s not- it’s not _flirting.”_

“I just don’t fucking like it that you do that with him,’ Louis says pissily, brushing past Harry in the kitchen to pretend to busy himself playing with a pile of mail. “It isn’t right. We’re supposed to be in a committed relationship, but you act like that means _nothing-”_

Suddenly the ground beneath Louis’ feet disappears and he’s being lifted up and turned around so that his bum plops down on the counter his hands had just been fussing at. Harry leans in to place one hand on either side of Louis’ hips and look him square in the eye. “You know that’s not true,” he says lowly, eyes fierce. “That’s a bold-faced lie. I care about this relationship more than _anything,_ and you know that. And this isn’t about Liam, because you know I’d light myself on fire before I did anything with anyone but you. So come on, what is this about?”

He’s fierce, sure, but there’s also this wounded look in Harry’s eye that makes Louis’ bravado melt. He hangs his head in shame. “I meant what I said about not liking that you do that with him,” Louis mumbles. “It’s just- I’m pissed off that you can’t do it with _me.”_

A long pause follows the confession, and then Harry sighs and leans in to nuzzle his face against Louis’ shoulder. “That’s what this is about? You’re mad about the closeting so you’re taking it out on me?”

“I prefer to think of it as creative venting,” Louis hedges. “I’m sorry,” he adds when he hears how weak that sounds.

“You should find some new outlets. I don’t like being yelled at and accused of being anything but hopelessly in love with you.” Harry mumbles the last part, then tilts his head to press a kiss to the side of Louis’ neck. “Like I could ever want anyone but you.” His hands find Louis’ waist and run down to his hips. “Like I could ever _need_ anyone but you.” Long fingers massage at the tops of Louis’ thighs.

“You could have anyone you wanted, though,” Louis says quietly, because it’s true. “The whole world adores you. And anyone that doesn’t already know and love you would fall in love with you on first glance. You don’t think that’s significant?”

“Not when I’m already completely taken. You’re bloody perfect, I couldn’t find anyone better than you if I tried.”

“Well let’s not get carried away now-”

Louis cuts off with a gasp as his hips are scooted abruptly towards the edge of the counter, and suddenly his torso is pressed against Harry’s and his knees are on either side of the younger man. “Do you think that I would do any of the things we do together if I wasn’t a hundred percent sure that you’re the one for me?” he asks, sounding wounded. His puppydog eyes say nothing but pure intentions but his grip on Louis’ hips is anything but innocent. “D’you think I would kiss you the way I kiss you? Would I fuck you the way I fuck you?”

An absolute _fucking_ minx, because he has to know that just bringing that up is going to make Louis’ cock get thick in his trousers. He can feel it too, Louis’ crotch pressed up against his stomach, and he actually has the nerve to smirk. “Stop trying to distract me when I’m mad at you,” Louis tries to protest.

“But we determined you’re not actually mad at me,” reasons Harry. “You’re mad at other things and taking it out on me. If you _were,_ though,” he tacks on, “what would I have to do to get your forgiveness? Grovel? Beg? That what you want, me on my knees for you?”

Louis is just about to argue that of _course_ that isn’t what he wants, that it isn’t about trying to win his grace or anything like that, but he’s already being lifted off the counter and set on his own two feet again. Before he can get a word in edgewise he’s looking down at Harry kneeling before him with his face pressed against Louis’ crotch. “Forgive me,” he murmurs, the movements of his lips like a caress over the outline of Louis’ cock in his jeans. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me, Louis, for ever looking at anyone but you.”

It feels a little bit mocking, like maybe Harry’s poking fun at him a very little bit, but he looks entirely serious about being on his knees for Louis so the older man reaches down to grab ahold of some curls and grind forward a little onto Harry’s open mouth. “How about you fuck me into the mattress,” he says shakily, “and we’ll call it even.”

“That’s a sentence I can live with,” Harry grins as he rises and grabs Louis’ hand to drag him to the bedroom. Some other time he might have thrown Louis over his shoulder or offered a playful piggyback ride, but tonight it seems like he’s going for speed, rather than charm. This theory holds true when he’s shedding clothes the instant they’re in the door and crushing kisses against Louis’ mouth as much as he can in the process.

The pace of Louis’ heartbeat picks up as the fervor of the kisses does, and by the time they’re both naked and Louis’ being tossed lightly on the bed he feels like he’s running a marathon. “Fuck, you’re hot,” he blurts out with his first grin of the night, looking down at how Harry is climbing on top of him and kissing all over his chest and stomach. “Even with your headband all crooked and your face all flushed you look like a fucking angel.”

“I’m not the one laid back like a bloody billionaire playboy,” Harry groaned, then ducked his head down to take Louis into his mouth.

Louis tries weakly to voice a willingness to give as good as he’s getting -honestly, 69 was invented specifically for moments like this -but his words are getting garbled by the feel of an expert mouth between his thighs and Harry doesn’t seem to be listening anyways. He’s got one hand on Louis’ cock and the other working quickly over his own, stroking himself stiff while he swallows Louis down.

In a last ditch attempt to be useful for something other than blurting precum into the back of Harry’s throat, Louis stretched out to fumble at the bedside table for some lube.  He’s concentrating very hard on wiggling his fingers closer to the bottle without disturbing Harry’s work on his hips but Harry beats him to to punch anyways, popping off Louis’ cock and leaning up to snatch the bottle up himself. “I’ve got it, babe,” he says sweetly.

“I’m sure you have,” Louis says with a laugh, laying back and resigning himself to being treated.

Harry’s got lube slicking over his fingers already, and as soon as the bottle’s been tossed aside he’s teasing them at Louis’ entrance. The first slides in with little resistance, the second soon after with only a little stretch, and Harry leans up to kiss Louis’ mouth softly. “How can you tell me I want anyone else when you’re still all fucked open from the last time I had you? When you’re probably still sore from just this morning?”

“Didn’t mean it, love,” Louis whispers into the kiss. “I know you would never. Just me being a jealous twat, innit?”

“You can be incredibly dumb sometimes when it comes to me,” Harry admits softly. “You keep forgetting that however much you love me, I’m about five times as gone for you. You know that? Feel how hard you make me, Louis. Feel how wet.”

He pulls his fingers out of Louis to take Louis’ hand and wrap it around his cock, releasing a soft moan as Louis immediately starts working his grip up and down the length He’s painfully hard, that much is obvious, and Louis isn’t the only one losing precum out of the tip of his cock. “Fuck me, baby,” Louis murmurs up at Harry, thumbing at the slit of his cock. “Please? I know it’s all for me. I know it is. Please?”

Harry’s never been able to deny Louis anything, not for long, so it’s less than ten seconds later that he’s pulling back to line himself up at Louis’ entrance. “Just you, Lou,” he says sweetly as he starts to push in. “I’d only ever want to do this with you.”

They’re both too far gone for this to last long, and they’re both plenty aware of that. Harry still tries his best to overwhelm Louis in whatever time they have, though, shifting the older boy’s hips around incessantly until one solid thrust sends Louis scrabbling and kicking at the mattress on either side of Harry. From then on out Harry’s muscles go taut with the effort of holding Louis’ hips _right there_ and setting a relentless pace that actually brings tears to Louis’ eyes.

“Fuck,” is all Louis can manage to babble as his vision swims. “Oh, fucking hell. Jesus Christ, do you- do you ever get fucking _tired_ or is the man I’m going to marry actually a robot?”

“Just wanna make you feel good, Lou.”

That sends a jolt through Louis just as good as any jab at his prostate, and Louis feels himself choke a little at the feel of it all. “Soon, Hazza,” he warns breathlessly. “Oh, fuck it’s gonna be soon.”

Harry digs his hips in just a hair harder, positively purring with Louis lifts his hands to wrap around his biceps. “Come on, Lou,” he begs. “Come for me. Fucking love feeling you come around me. Just from me fucking you, yeah?”

“You close?” Louis asks through gritted teeth, determined to be fair. “You gonna come soon?”

A frantic nod, Harry’s eyes jammed shut in concentration. “Soon as you do. Wanna feel you come and then I’m gonna come inside you. Fill you up like nobody else gets to. It’s just me and you, Lou. No one else has ever had me, no one else ever will, it’s just us, just- _fuck.”_

He feels Louis’ orgasm hit probably at the exact second Louis does, because Louis’ orgasms have always been strong and loud just like the menace himself and the second it takes over him he’s bucking and shouting and grabbing at Harry’s arms like he’s not sure gravity is going to work at a time like this. Harry can’t help but follow about fifteen seconds later, his own climax quieter in the way he gives one great moan and holds himself deep inside of Louis, pinning the smaller man still beneath him in his anxious press to get as close as physically possible to occupying the same space as the man he’s spilling into.

Harry pulls out as soon as he stops shuddering so that he’s then free to flop down right there on top of Louis. He’s got his chin in something slimy that is undoubtedly a patch of Louis’ cum, but he can’t be arsed to care. “I fucking love you so much,” he pants, energy at least sufficient to communicate this vital truth.

“Come up here and kiss me,” Louis mumbles in return.

“Can’t.”

“Wanna kiss your face, Hazza.”

_“Can’t,_ Loubear.”

The nickname that Harry hasn’t dared to use in years slips out between them and Louis laughs, then raises a hand to pet at Harry’s curls where they’ve become dislodged by the jostle of his stomach. He spends a thoughtful moment looking down at the boy and then brings that hand up to his lips to kiss the fingertips and then bring it down to press to Harry’s lips. Harry puckers his lips to kiss them back, eyes already closed.

They’ll get up in a little bit to shower off, probably, or else Harry will get tired of having cum crusted on his face and fetch a flannel. Louis doesn’t really care either way, to be honest, because he already has what he wanted. “Just you, Harry.”

“Just me, Lou,” Harry confirms. “Just us.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Drea [Themelonlord](themelonlord.tumblr.com) on tumblr, light of my life. The working title of this doc was "Operation: Smiles for Drea" and I'll have you all know that she informed me this was operation SUCCESS. There are no sads in the world that cannot be cured by a lil jealous Louis top Harry barebacking with bonus cuddles just because. :-)
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


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